From Ancient Grudge
by keelhaulrose
Summary: Hermione and Draco, Head Girl and Boy at Hogwarts, cannot seem to get along. McGonagall gives them a rather unusual assignment in the hopes of forcing them to at least tolerate each other. No one can argue that McGonagall is not an effective teacher. HG/DM, ignores epilogue.


**A/N: This is for Alarice Tey's painfully bad and/or awkward kisses challenge on the Harry Potter Fanfiction Challenges forum. It is exactly what it sounds like. One painfully bad kiss, and I did manage a happy ending.**

**Rated for minor language, and adult themes. EWE, AU warnings.  
**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I play with the characters and try to put them back in the same condition as I found them, even if I do switch their placements a bit. I do not profit from this writing.  
**

"You can't be serious!" Draco raged at the now-Headmistress of Hogwarts.

"Dead serious, Mr. Malfoy," McGonagall replied, shooting him a stern look. "I called both of you back to Hogwarts two weeks early in the hopes that our chosen Head Boy and Girl would be able to get along. We are now a week before school starts, and after last night's fiasco at dinner, I could hardly say that we are close to achieving that goal."

Hermione said nothing, but stared in disbelief at the papers in her hand.

"Granger, you can't possibly want to go through with this!" Draco turned to her for support.

"Can't it be another scene, Professor?" she asked timidly.

"After consulting several other staff members, we all determined that this would be the most appropriate scene for the situation."

"But it's typically staged with a..." she blushed and looked pointedly away from Draco.

"A what?" Draco asked, looking confused.

"If I remember correctly, there are few actual stage directions written into the scene. You will have discretion, as long as you make it believable."

"A what?" he repeated, becoming angry.

"What if I found another scene, from a different play with similar themes?" Hermione asked, pleading.

"Our decision is final. You have no duties but to learn to get along before the start of term, and this is now an official duty. You have until the day before the start of term to memorize, plan, and perform the scene, or you will be stripped of your title, and that's the last word I'm going to say."

"Yes, Headmistress," she murmured, turning and leaving the room. Draco shot a look at McGonagall before running after her.

"A what?" he demanded again.

"Please don't tell me you've never heard of Shakespeare," she groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose as she started towards the grounds so they could talk without the staff overhearing the inevitable fight.

"Shakes who?"

"Bloody hell."

"Who is he?"

She stopped short, turning to look at him, sounding furious. "He is a very famous playwright, quite possibly _the_ most famous, and the scene that McGonagall has assigned to us is the balcony scene from Romeo and Juliet, which might be the most famous scene he's ever written."

Draco looked at her quizzically. "He's a Muggle, right?"

She growled in frustration, throwing her hands up and stomping out of the castle.

"Don't make it like that, Granger. I was just asking because, in case you may not have guessed, Muggle literature was not encouraged in my household."

"Well, I guess it's time to broaden your horizons, isn't it?"

He scowled as she sat down under the shade of a tree not to far from the lake. He sat in front of her, posture a little too straight. "So, what is such a big deal about this scene?"

"Romeo and Juliet is a play about two lovers from warring families. In this scene he overhears her speaking about her love for him, and he starts telling her he loves her in return. Eventually they agree to marry."

"Within five minutes of meeting each other?" he asked in surprise.

"Sort of."

"Sounds mental."

"It's considered quite the romantic scene."

"That just proves Mugg... er, it still sounds mental."

"Mental or not, we have to perform the scene for the Professors, so I'd prefer we just work on this and get it done with."

"So what is it typically staged with?"

"Usually at some point in this scene Romeo and Juliet kiss."

He blanched.

"McGonagall left us to our own devices when it comes to staging, so if we can make it believable without kissing, we could do that."

He looked lost in thought for a moment. "If there's normally a kiss, lets keep it that way," he said slowly.

"Really?" she asked loudly in shock.

"It's acting, Granger, don't get excited. In case you didn't notice, I've done quite a bit of acting in the last few years."

"Really? I thought you were rather transparent."

"Either way," he started through clenched teeth. "I can kiss you in the context of the theater. It doesn't mean I'll like it, or that it'll effect me in any way."

"So you won't mind if I think of Krum, then?" she said with as sweet a smile as she possibly could muster.

He looked annoyed and rolled his eyes. They spent two hours working with the scene, blocking it, trying to memorize lines, and, at least in Draco's case, becoming very frustrated.

"No one in the history of ever has ever talked like this," he growled.

"Not true. There was a wizard once who read a cursed copy of _Macbeth_ and spoke in iambic pentameter for the rest of his life," she told him.

"One person. The rest of us are stuck trying to decipher this nonsense."

"It's quite common for Muggles to study Shakespeare's work."

"Muggle professors must all be along the lines of Snape, then."

"You should be careful how loud you say that. I swear that man has implanted Extendable Ears, and if he hears you say that you're going to get some form of ironic punishment."

Draco smiled, though he quickly looked away. "Want to run it through?"

Her stomach twisted in knots. "All the way through? With the blocking and everything?"

"Yeah. We've got to start it sometime."

"Yeah," she muttered.

They ran through the scene mechanically, coming close as their blocking called for. She finally came to the line before when they had agreed to stage the kiss and looked at him, wondering if either one of them were willing to go through with it. There was a long pause, and she was about to walk off and wait for the next line, but he roughly grabbed her arm and pulled her towards him.

The kiss was awful. Both of them would fully admit that. One might call it mechanical, but that would require some movement. Rather, both of them clenched their jaws and pressed their tightly-pursed lips together for a fraction of a second. It was more like kissing a mannequin than an actual person, and Hermione was vaguely reminded of when Charlie admitted, under a spiked product offered by his brothers, to practicing kissing on his pillow. They both turned away after the kiss, disgusted... and a little disappointed. They finished the scene in little more than whispers, and Hermione wanted nothing more than to go running to her room and lose herself in a book.

The next three times they did the scene they didn't bother with the kiss, and by the time they finished the sun had sunk low across the lake, and they both knew dinner was waiting.

"Do all Muggles think this sort of thing is romantic?" Draco asked, sounding genuinely curious.

"What, Shakespeare? Not really. It's a bit of an acquired taste."

"I meant this whole falling in love so quickly thing? Do many of them get engaged so quickly?"

"Not hardly," she chuckled. "There's something to be said about love at first sight, but I think it's impractical. Love has to grow. But it would be nice to find someone..." she trailed off and turned away, hoping he didn't see her blush.

"You said something about their families hating each other earlier? What happened?"

"The play is vague on that aspect," she smiled. "They had a hatred for each other that went so far back no one really remembers what started it. But they continued to hate each other, and family members on both sides die because of the feud. The hatred was so deep even their servants hated each other."

"Still sounds mental."

"Really? Sounds somewhat familiar."

He looked at her in surprise, but she didn't elaborate.

"So, what happens to them?" he asked after a minutes silence.

"They both die."

"They're killed?" he sounded surprised. "Do their families do it?"

"It's a little more complicated than that. They got married in secret, then he kills her cousin and is banished. While he is gone she becomes betrothed to another man, Paris. To prevent the marriage she takes a sleeping potion to fake her death. She's laid to rest in a tomb, Romeo finds out and comes to visit her when Paris is there, Romeo kills Paris, then takes poison to kill himself. Juliet awakens to find Paris and Romeo dead, and stabs herself."

"How do you not find that mental?" he asked in surprise.

"Maybe it is a little. Especially since she was thirteen, and he was in love with someone else when he first saw her."

"What?" he nearly shouted. "Thirteen? That's an old second year or a third year at best! They hardly know how to wipe their own arse at that age!"

"You were a third year not too long ago."

"And I'll admit, I was stupid."

"Wasn't that the year I punched..."

"No need to bring up ancient history, Granger."

She laughed, and he couldn't help but smile, but by the time they got to the Great Hall they went their separate ways without a word. The next day they met up, and repeated the scene so long that each felt comfortable not looking at the script, but they did not practice the kiss any longer. By the third day Draco was still expressing frustration with the scene, and the play in general, which he insisted no sane person could ever like. It gave Hermione an idea, and she cut the rehearsal short so she could go into Hogsmeade, and then to Portsmouth to get something done. When they finished the next day she told Draco not to bother showing up for any kind of rehearsal the next day, but to meet her by the main gate at five-thirty wearing something 'Muggle-nice'. Luckily he didn't test her patience, showing up in a jumper, suit jacket, and trousers.

"You got me here and all dolled up. What are we doing?" he asked.

"We are enjoying one of our last free night out before we must humiliate ourselves in front of our professors," she said brightly.

"In Hogsmeade?"

"We just need to Apparate to Portsmouth."

"Portsmouth? What's in Portsmouth?"

"Our outing."

"Outing? What outing? I never agreed to go on an outing with you."

"I guess you can stay here if you want, but I should warn you, Snape found out he's got double-potions with the Gryffindor and Slytherin first years first thing Monday mornings, and he's on the warpath."

"That might be worth watching, actually."

"The fun part is over. I witnessed it outside the library. It was quite hilarious. Now he's just in a really bad mood, and I think he's ready to reduce someone to tears and isn't going to discriminate as to whom."

"Suddenly an evening out with you is looking nearly pleasurable."

"Isn't that charming? How you say something designed to make me feel like I'm somewhere between watching Snape and McGonagall have a shouting match and Snape making you cry."

"What the hell are you talking about, Granger? I'm very charming."

"Yes, because you've given me so many opportunities to see it thus far."

"Just because I haven't charmed _you_ doesn't mean I'm not charming."

"Prove it," she murmured, taking his arm and Apparating them to a safe point in Portsmouth.

"What the hell do you mean, 'prove it'?" he asked as she led them out of the alley towards a restaurant.

"I would have thought someone of your intelligence would easily be able to decipher those two particular words."

His eyes narrowed, but as soon as they got to the restaurant his hand immediately shot out to open the door for her. They were shown to their table immediately, and he held the chair as she sat.

"How am I doing so far?" he muttered as they looked over the menus.

"Good manners does not equate charming," she replied.

He scowled, and waited until they ordered to say anything else.

"So, how was your summer before coming back to Hogwarts?" he asked, sounding genuinely interested.

"What?" she asked in surprise.

"Small talk, Granger. Ever heard of it?"

"Why do you want to know?"

He sighed dramatically. "Is this how you treat Potter and Weasley when they try to make a conversation with you?"

"That depends. Is there Quidditch anywhere in the conversation?"

He smiled. "I swear I will not mention Quidditch this evening. And considering any kind of dinner conversation is better than sitting here and saying nothing, I'd like to talk. So, I believe the question was how your summer was before returning to Hogwarts."

"It was nice," she said slowly. "I spent most of it in Australia."

"Why Australia?" he asked, sounding genuinely curious.

"I sent my parents there before Harry, Ron, and I started our... searching trip. I wiped their memories of me, and made them leave to protect them. And as soon as I had recovered from the Battle I went there to modify their memories back. We spent a week having some difficult discussions, and they decided they liked Australia and will be living there for a while. So I spent some more time over there with them. I didn't tell them I was modifying their memories, and to be honest our relationship was strained before we even got to that point, and it's nothing a summer together is going too fix."

"What do you mean by that?"

"We've been growing apart ever since I went to Hogwarts. I'm not part of their world anymore. Somewhere around third year I spent more and more time in our world than theirs. By fifth year I barely saw them, and would take a long time writing back. They were happy I was happy, but they were disappointed because they lost me as a daughter. The more time I spent in our world, the more they looked at me like I was speaking another language. And after what happened in our second year they seriously wanted to pull me out. They thought it was too dangerous. I stopped telling them everything to alleviate their nerves. When I visited them in Australia I could tell how hurt they were that it was that bad and I didn't tell them. It's going to take a lot for me to regain their trust, and I don't know if we'll ever be past this," she finished in a whisper. She hadn't meant to tell him everything, but once the words started coming she had difficulty stopping. It felt good to tell someone. Harry and Ron were so busy trying to get back to normal with Quidditch and Auror training she felt as though she had fallen by the wayside.

Draco was looking stunned, and stayed silent. He had never given serious thought to what life would be like a a Muggle-born. Such thoughts would have been ridiculed and discouraged in his household. Muggle-borns were lower than Muggles, they stole magic and were using it illicitly. But... Granger was different. Talented. Intelligent. Everything he had been told Mud... Muggle-borns were not. And it took her being tortured on the floor of Malfoy Manor, to see the blood flowing from the cuts his aunt had made on her arm, to realize that she was not as different from him as he had been told. To this day he couldn't be in that room, or look at her forearm. And to hear what the war cost her... After the war finished he and his parents sequestered themselves in Malfoy Manor, barely speaking to each other as they let the realization that their way of thinking had suddenly become obsolete. They emerged once in two and a half months, to testify at their trials. Surprisingly Granger and Potter both offered testimony that their allegiances had changed, and advocated giving them another chance. He owed Granger, as much as he'd hate to admit it. When he was visited by McGonagall asking if he was returning to Hogwarts he was surprised by the offer. He thought for sure he'd be persona non grata at the school, and the Headmistress was the one who came to offer him another chance. He decided quickly he'd like to go back, as he had no idea what he'd be doing otherwise, and wanted to delay his entrance into the adult wizarding world as long as possible. Then the second miracle happened. Just a week later Snape stopped by the Manor to tell him that the staff had had a long talk, and was offering him the Head Boy position. He was suspicious at first, and figured out why when he was told Hermione was going to be the Head Girl. The price of being Head Boy was making nice with the most insufferable Gryffindor they could find. And he was willing to pay, thinking avoidance would be the key. But the staff had other plans. And when it was obvious he and Granger got together like oil and water they wound up in this situation. Which, he told himself as he looked over the pretty summer dress Hermione was wearing, wasn't as bad as he would have thought a year or two prior.

"I'm sorry, we've talked too much about me," she forced a smile. "How was your summer?"

"Honestly? Horrible. I stayed at the manor, barely talking to anyone, doing quite a bit of soul searching, and wondering what I was going to do with myself without finishing my education and having my name count as mud in much of our world."

"I would have thought..." she started, but she blushed and turned away.

"Thought what?"

"That you wouldn't have to worry about that sort of thing for a while," she said slowly and carefully, looking as though she would much rather have said nothing.

"I do have enough money in a trust from my grandfather that I don't have to worry about working, but that doesn't mean I want to sit around for the rest of my life."

"Oh. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said anything."

"It's okay."

She quickly changed the topic of the conversation, and for the rest of the dinner they made small talk about their plans beyond Hogwarts.

She checked her watch after a while. "We should probably get going if we're going to make our next stop on time," she said as their waitress left their bill on the table. Both of them reached out in unison to pick it up.

"I asked you out tonight, so I'll pay," Hermione said quickly.

"Not a chance, Granger. I never let a woman play on the first... This will be my treat."

"Are you sure? I wouldn't impose on you."

"Don't be difficult, Hermione," he sighed, and she lifted her hand off the bill. He paid, and helped her out of her seat. He even offered his arm as they left the restaurant and started down the street. It wasn't a long walk, the theater was three blocks away.

"What's this?" he asked as she produced two tickets to show to the usher at the door.

"_Romeo and Juliet,_" she said as she led him into the atrium.

"The play?" he sounded surprised.

"Of course."

"Like the whole thing?"

"I don't think they'd do good business only producing half a play."

"Why?"

"You said you were having problems getting into the scene. I thought it would help you to see how it is professionally done."

They took their seats just a few minutes before the curtain rose. Draco didn't even seem to mind the older Muggle woman who sat on his other side who reeked of too much perfume. He was riveted from the moment the curtain went up, and stayed quiet save for occasionally asking Hermione to translate what something meant. When their scene came up Hermione noticed his lips moving along with Romeos words. What she didn't notice was that he was glancing at her throughout the scene.

"What did you think?" Hermione asked after they Apparated as close to Hogwarts as they could.

"That was..." he trailed off, thinking. "It was enlightening. I never would have been able to do something like this if I was still under Father's command. But I liked it. A bit difficult to understand at times, but I'll even admit, I had fun."

"I'm glad you liked it," she beamed. "And I promise, not all Muggle plays are written in iambic pentameter."

"I may have to try a few more out, then."

"You know where to find me if you would like suggestions," she said as he held the gate open for her.

"And if I want a companion?" he asked.

She studied him for a moment. "I'll get the tickets if you get dinner," she said softly, as if she didn't believe him and didn't want to get her hopes up. "Listen, I was thinking about the scene."

"What about it?" he asked, confused.

"I think, perhaps, we should take the kiss out. I know you really don't want to kiss a Muggle-born, and I don't want to try to force it. I just don't think we could make it convincing."

"Why not?"

"Because, well... when we did it, it was..."

"Terrible," he finished for her.

"Yeah. And it's wrong of McGonagall to try to force us to do that. She said we could stage it without one, all we have to do is make it believable. And that kiss just wasn't."

"Well, it must be you, Granger, because I happen to know I am an excellent kisser."

"From what I heard I could ask any Slytherin girl in our year, the year up, and the year down for confirmation. And, if my sources are correct, Blaise Zabini."

"Who told you that?" he asked, looking angry.

"I don't divulge informants."

"Whoever told you that, tell them if I find out who they are, they will be the victim of whatever curse I can think of first."

"Be that as it may, I know you don't want to kiss me."

He stopped, pulling her towards him. Their bodies were touching, and his gray eyes locked on hers as he whispered, "How very Gryffindor of you, to make that assumption."

Their second kiss was the opposite of the first. He reached up to cup her face, drawing it slowly towards his. She closed her eyes, wondering if it was some kind of trick, if he was about to say something cruel, or laugh at how idiotic she was to think he'd ever lower himself to kissing her. But it never came. Instead she felt his lips ghost across hers, just enough for her to suck in an anticipatory breath, craning her neck upwards towards him. And then their lips connected again, more forcefully this time. She allowed his lips to lead hers in their mutual dance, feeling his arms wrap around her and hold her tightly to him as her head began swimming. She held onto his jacket, assuring herself he was there, and all of it was really happening. When he pulled away his eyes were alight and triumphant, and a smile played across his lips.

"Let me get my lady back to her quarters, and we'll talk about that scene in the morning," he said, wrapping an arm around her and leading her up the steps toward the castle.

"I think I may have had a change of heart about taking the kiss out," she said with a playful smile.

"We might be on agreement on that point, Hermione, but don't expect any marriage proposal tonight," he beamed, and the sound of her laughter was cut off by the sound of the large door shutting behind them.

Several stories up, two witnesses to their moment together stood, looking out at the now-darkened grounds.

"I may vomit," Snape drawled, sounding bored.

"Oh, Severus," McGonagall sighed. "Have you not a single romantic bone in your body?"

He shot her a look that dared her to ask the question twice. "You wanted me up here to make sure they returned safely and didn't manage to kill each other. I daresay a supervisor is will no longer be required for their time together. And if you still think there is the need, take my name off the list of staff to ask, as I don't need to witness the new couple. I've seen too many teenagers in the early relationship phase."

"You are no fun at all sometimes. But you're right. I think we have no further concerns about them getting along."

"Until they have a fight. _That_ I would be quite willing to witness."

"Hush," she rolled her eyes. "I will see you at the staff meeting in the morning."

"I wouldn't miss it."

"Oh, and Severus?"

"Yes, Headmistress?"

"If you see Draco, tell him his performance will no longer be required."

"I will pass the news on to him tonight. I'm sure he'll be happy to hear it. It may even calm a bit of his anger at being forced back to his quarters by his Head of House."

"Why would you need to force him back to his quarters?"

He shot her another look. "I've read the play, Minerva. I have no inclination to let them carry on with it tonight."


End file.
